A Slow Burn
by Roo1965
Summary: A Nemesis episode tag, inspired by Halloween drabble i wrote 'nightmares terminated'. set OW, with ChrisOFC Abby's back!. What if Chris tried to follow Fowler into the burning livery? What if he still wants to look for answers?


**A slow burn**

** --------------- **

Larabee hated fire, it was official. If it weren't for the dire situation he found himself in he might consider asking Mary to put a note to that effect in the paper. 

Fire had taken his family and his very soul. And now this accidental fire in the livery was going to take Fowler away too. He couldn't let that happen.

Fowler took a breath as if he was going to say a name and said "No don't think I will." and then as cool as you like turned and walked back into the livery. Chris was having none of that, "Tell me, you sorry son of a bitch!" he yelled and leapt after him. The inside was all hot air and flames; it was the devil himself .Chris coughed. Squinting he made out Fowler heading for the back. But the structure was going and a beam collapsed, felling Fowler. The man wasn't dead but he didn't try and save himself either. Chris ducked as more debris rained down on them. The heat was intense, bits of hay and stuff swirling about. Something hot and heavy fell on Chris and he toppled face first to the burning floor. If he could just reach the bastards foot he could maybe drag him out and get him to tell what he knew. Gasping he stretched out blindly in the smouldering floor, his eyes watering in the heat.

But it was _his _foot that was grabbed, the weight on his back went and suddenly he was pulled upright and outside. The air felt freezing after the livery. He struggled to get away as the someone- Buck- turned him over and over smothering him "Dammit Chris!" 'What ?' he thought. Suddenly he was still and Buck turned him onto his back, Chris was shaken and it took everything to speak or breathe. He coughed and coughed. He was pulled upward to rest against a solid chest; he didn't care whose, just that it helped a bit. He cracked open red gritty eyes to see a worried Nathan kneeling next to him

"Get Fowler!" Chris croaked

"Too late for that, pard." said Buck behind him.

"Shit." Chris said and struggled again but Buck's hold was firm and he really didn't have the energy or enough breath to argue any more. Suddenly various pains grabbed his attention and his eyes rolled up and he collapsed against Buck.

Consequently he missed the panic this caused amongst the rest of the peace keepers. Town folk were busy trying to save the livery and stop the fire spreading to other property. The Eagle Bend sheriff appeared and said roughly "Doc's outta town but you can use his office, fix him up and then go, you've done enough damage here for a while."

Once there Nathan tended to Chris. Buck was reluctant to let Chris go. Vin could see that this whole thing had been bad for him let alone Chris. JD hurried back with Nathan's pack while Josiah searched cupboards and drawers for supplies.

Carefully Larabee's clothes were removed to see the damage. Bruising either from the fight with Fowler or something had hit him hard on the back. Singed face and burns on his hands and front and back of neck.

"His gun hand gonna be okay Nate?" Vin asked as he watched him gently place Chris's hands in bowls of cold water to sooth them and water soaked cloths across his face and neck.

"Should be. Don't reckon they're too badly burnt. Not deep, just real painful, but burns ain't easy. We'll have to be careful of infections. He's gonna feel a mite poorly for a while." affirmed Nathan, telling his fellow regulators of the situation and long road ahead.

"Why did he follow him into a burning barn?" JD asked

"Cause he still wanted answers, that's why!" snapped Buck.

"But he could have died!"

"Fowler is only link to what happened to his family, he ain't about to let that go."

As if hearing the name Chris stirred on the bed in the doc's room. He was propped up to help him breath more easily. He eyes fluttered and he hoarsely yelled "No!" before arching up on the bed trying to breathe.

"Calm down, stud." urged Buck hoping to get through to him. The red eyes swung back to him as he wheezed. Vin stepped up with a water canteen "Just a bit." cautioned Nathan.

Chris swallowed greedily; he took a few breaths and then looked so panicked that Nathan knew just what was about to happen as he moved in with a wide bowl. After Chris was done he got Chris to rinse out. He wiped his face again. And put his hands back in the cooling water and changed the cool cloths on his face and neck

Vin was horrified by the colour he saw in the bowl "Nathan!"

"He breathed in smoke Vin that's all."

"Gonna kill 'im?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Chris?"

"Hmm?"

"Need you to open your eyes for a bit so's I kin wash them out gain."

"Again?"

"Guess you don't remember the first time?"

Chris shook his head and coughed again, grimacing at the pain it caused.

"Just a little longer and you can rest up."

Nathan asked the others to hold Chris tilted so he could run water across one eye into a bowl and then turn him to do the other. As he started to wind bandages round Chris's' head, his hand shot up to grip it. "What for?"

"Just to protect your eyes Chris. We'll wash them every few hours. More painful if you keep opening them." Surrendering, Chris slumped into the pillows.

Nathan didn't doubt that the six of them would be on hand at various times to help, but it was Larabee's reaction to it all that worried him.

------------------------ 

Some time after, Chris turned up in Purgatorio, hands tender but useable and his eyes okay. It had had been the blow to the back that caused a lot of trouble, that and the smoke inhalation. The bruised kidney was painful and he'd pissed blood for long enough and drunk enough teas to float a fleet.

As soon as he could, he was off looking for clues, anything about Fowler, where he came from, who knew him. Anything that might reveal who had paid him to murder his family. What had the Larabee family ever done to deserve this? Surely he was allowed hope?

He was bone tired, Nathan would have his ass. He still wasn't eating or sleeping right since the fire. Hell since before that really, in the mad flight with the Indian and all.

As he ambled in to Purgatorio he remembered JD coming for him early one morning - 3am- only to find him still awake and dressed in his room just sitting there. JD got kinda spooked.

He wasn't sure why he was here; they'd asked questions here before, but that was a month or so ago. Maybe the working girls had something this time. Maybe Abby was here…hmm Cowboy... that's what you call an ulterior motive. Damn, sounding like Ezra now. And if he was talking to himself, was he finally gong mad? Fuck this. Can't decide. Drink always works.

-------------------------- 

**Abby.**

Sally had fetched her, all of a fidget. "Your man in black's in the saloon."

"He ask for me?"

"No. But something ain't right. Maybe you can fix it. He likes you. The other girls are scared. He's here to party or fight or just get himself killed….either way it's a waste of time and one heck of a body."

She stood at the stop of the stairs and peered over the rail. Yep that was Chris. No mistaking that way of sitting at a table minding his own business, with an aura that said 'keep out'. As she slowly came down the stairs he didn't look up. She knew he was dark but Sally was right. Something wasn't right. Something dangerous was on the loose. He was angry but keeping it hid but she could see it seething and burning and, Jesus, he was dying inside. How come no one else could see what she could see plain as the nose on her face?

He'd always been lean but now he looked brittle. One touch and he'd shatter. She smirked as she remembered how he'd shattered visiting her before- but that was then and this was now. Unease stirred in her, should she be worried? Would he hurt her? Not intentionally, she mused but if he did, that would only add to his world of hurts.

How to diffuse this slow burning fuse without exploding? Larabee was twitchier than a stirred up nest of rattlers. He twirled the shot glass round and round between long fingers, eyes unfocussed, thinking hard. She stepped closer and he finally looked up. She didn't know what made him do so. Dead eyes, she thought.

"Hey, lover," she crooned smiling, hoping his mood might change. Tightly buttoned as ever, he didn't react, but didn't exactly tell her to go away either.

Taking this as acceptance she sat next to him, reckoning going for the slide into his lap would be more than he wanted just yet. Boldly she took the full shot glass and drank. "Thirsty." she said cocking a smile and eye at him, suggesting that they might go someplace and do something energetic enough to earn another drink or even a smoke afterwards. She refilled the glass and nudged it back to him, challenging him for a spark of life. A word, that's all she wanted. 'Yes,' 'okay' or 'room ' would do.

When he did finally speak, the words weren't what she expected, but then he always was contrary. It made him exciting. Sally thought she was mad encouraging him.

"Ever heard of a man named Cletus Fowler?"

"Nope."

"Think real hard." he said all dark and menacing and described the man.

"Funny hand man, think I'd remember that."

Disappointed but resigned he sighed loudly. He leant next to her ear "Think you could ask the others?"

She shrugged "If you like"-that earned her a mild glare. Why she baited him she didn't know. If she got this wrong he'd sweep out and leave her to another customer not half as accommodating and fine. And she wanted him now he was here.

"I do like," he said

"It's that important to you? Can we talk about it, the other side of the street- my room?"- There, she'd had to ask in the end.

"It's life and death important." he confirmed.

"So's the other" she retorted knowing he usually responded to her quick wit. Like he'd come to some big decision or had just decided to go with the flow, he finally gave a small smile back. "See," she said "There is more to life than drinking and fighting!" He snorted and reached for her hand as he stood up, picking the shot glass and bottle up with the other. "Let's 'talk'," he said with a low growl, the way he said it, making her go all goose pimply. That and the lustful smile.

In her room, she raised a glass of whisky, "Here's to satisfactory conversation…"

"Hell with satisfactory!" he said his mouth hard on hers.

"What did this man do, the one you askin' about?" she mumbled, her fingers busy unbuttoning his shirt and leant in to lick his chest.

He stood stock still and released her mouth and she knew it wasn't because of what she was doing. It was what she'd just said. The lust for life went out of him and a hard look took over.

"He killed my wife and son."

"Chris, I'm so sorry…so, you looking to take him to trial?"

"He's dead."

"Then, why are you asking?"

"'Cause some no good low life out there paid him to do it. There must be a connection, a name, a payment. Something. And I aim to find it."

"I'll ask around for you. You don't look so good, tired out, need feedin' up, lawman. Reckon if you've been on the trail a long time, you need some comforting." And she kissed him back, her hands pulling the shirt off.

"You need money to get answers?" he said breathlessly, pulling her tight against him.

"Hell, I can see how many coins you got, just by looking at those tight pants you wear! Well, that and other valuable currency..." she said wickedly slipping a hand between their bodies, reaching for the buttons on his pants.

"That's not my money bag," he groaned as he toppled backwards onto the bed. "I know!" she said.

-------------------------- 

She soothed his sweaty brow as he stirred restlessly.

Chris was dreaming again. Fire and glowing eyes. Why was Fowler following him like this, the bastard was dead wasn't he? No way was he alive after that inferno. Vin had told him all he found were bones. Then why was he crawling across the burning floor towards Chris, bones scraping and laughing like a madman? A claw reached for his heart.

Chris shouted and woke up sitting bolt upright, sweat soaked, chest heaving, gasping for breath.

That was another thing. Dreams of not being able to breathe.

He registered a feminine voice shushing and soothing him. Where the hell was he? Startled he spun round out of bed almost tripping in the bed clothes.

"It's me- Abby." came the voice in the dark. She lit a lamp and grinned. He was standing there, no clothes on, a scowl as big as Texas, one hand on his gun in his rig at the end of the bed post. He looked just fine to her, a bit like a cute baby owl fallen out of its nest, his hair all sticking up just begging to be run through….

"Chris?" She asked. He blinked.

"C'mon back to bed, stud and get warm."

He let go the gun, looked down at himself, before gazing back at her. He crawled back to bed. He drank some water and coughed again. Didn't need to, it was a reflex after the fire. Nathan had reassured him it would go in time. As he lay back in bed, with Abby curled around him, he wondered if he did have enough time. The trail he'd tried to make sense of after he found his family dead and home destroyed had gone cold quickly and he'd had to let it go. Of course he never entirely forgot- it just didn't occupy as much of his waking or sleeping hours as it used to. He'd begun to come to terms with the situation, a little. And now this. A witness, new evidence at his homestead and a name at last.

But not the man who had been behind it.

He had to find out who it was, surely Josiah's God would allow this- or was he too much the sinner? Well, that was a stupid thought Larabee, he smiled to himself – just where are you and who are you with? Exactly. No help from up above then. Gonna have to do it on his own, in his own way. Like always.

Not always, a tiny voice sneered. You had Buck before and now you got six friends…why don't you ask for help for once?

tbc?


End file.
